


Call to Arms

by bazaar



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Christmas Fluff, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-03
Updated: 2018-01-03
Packaged: 2019-02-27 23:22:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13258761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bazaar/pseuds/bazaar
Summary: Neither of them really had anywhere to go for the holidays.Fareeha aimed to fix that.





	Call to Arms

**Author's Note:**

> I cannot remember the last time I wrote anything that wasn't Korrasami, but here you go. I'm also like two weeks late to this whole Christmas thing...
> 
> From a prompt from delectablyfreetimetravel on tumblr: " _Christmas fire, comfortable sofa for 2, ugly Christmas jumpers, hot chocolate with the works - any ship_ "

“Doctor?”

A delicate question. Out of the ordinary for her, but entirely necessary. Her tone wasn’t for show. There were too many wounded—too many innocent—for brusqueness.

Outside, it was snowing again. She’d never much liked the snow, but as she watched it fall silently over King’s Cross, she could understand why someone raised around it might find it comforting.

“Angela?”

At her name, the doctor turned bodily away from the window, looking weary but well put together. Often, Fareeha had found herself wondering if the nanobots in her system were to blame for her appearance. Then again, Angela Zeigler’s composure had always been rather legendary. Those thoughts wandered off.

“Fareeha,” she said, like a sigh, “feeling all right?”

“Fine, thanks to you,” She took a measured step forward, hoping to keep her demeanor light enough to give proper reassurance. She was no doctor, but she’d always considered herself a good friend, or at the very least, a good listener. “And you?”

Angela smiled, a ghost of a smile, really, but a genuine one. “Being idle gives me more time to think on that.”

“Not an answer, Doctor,” she admonished with a smile of her own.

The smile grew. “A _bad_ answer, Captain.”

A long beat stretched out between them. Not an uncomfortable one, but it did give her a moment to try to catalogue what she could see spread across Angela’s face. She’d never been difficult to read, just difficult to _help_ , on the rare occasion that she’d accept a proffered hand.

“Come on,” Fareeha said suddenly, sweeping her hand out towards the exit behind her, “I know you can’t pass up caffeine this early.”

Angela still had that faraway look in her eyes when she accepted the offer, her mind elsewhere, but as long as Fareeha could offer her friend support, she would. _Small victories_ , she told herself as they caught Lena in the hallway, and Angela laughed at something the younger woman had said. Her demeanor kept brightening as they made their way to the cramped kitchen (was _every_ room in England built for _children?_ ) and when they’d finally sat across from each other with fresh cups of coffee, it seemed that Angela’s mind had decided to settle itself back in place.

“You know, I _did_ try napping earlier,” Angela said, absently stirring her coffee.

Fareeha made a noise of disbelief behind her mug. “Aren’t you under some oath not to lie, Doctor? The… Hippopotamus?”

Angela raised her eyebrows like she’d been poked between the eyes. “The _Hippocratic_ Oath says nothing regarding lying about sleeping habits,” she deadpanned, but Fareeha could spot the mirth hiding right underneath, “…which I’m not doing.”

“Fine, fine. Continue, hippopotamus. You were laying down, completely awake and…?”

“I was _trying to nap_ but was kept from it because Jesse _refuses_ to wear the nasal strips I gave him.”

She almost choked on her drink, scalding her tongue in the process. When she’d recovered, Angela wasn’t even trying to hide her amusement. “He’s at the other end of the _hall_.”

“He may have sleep apnea.”

Fareeha had to laugh. “I know you’ve said you’re a light sleeper, but there’s no way _—_ “

“Like a _lawnmower._ ”

“Well… my apologies,” Fareeha amended, still grinning, “Jesse’s snoring is a thoroughly believable excuse. You should switch rooms.” Angela’s eyebrows raised like she was waiting for a suggestion. Only, Fareeha didn’t… have one. There was limited space as it was. “Or… there’s a hostel across the street?”

Angela sighed one of her huffy, theatrical ones, propping her head on her hand. “I always seem to find time to marvel at just how thankless my job is. Saving lives, saving limbs… and I’m offered what I can only _imagine_ to be a dirty cot, surrounded by—again, Fareeha, assumptions— _several_ strangers. I’m glad you appreciate what I do.”

“I’m no genius, but do I detect a _hint_ of sarcasm, Doctor Zeigler?”

“ _Me?_ ” Angela gasped, “No, I would _never_. I took an oath _,_ remember?”

“Ah, so the oath swears off sarcasm but not lying? Strange people, doctors.”

For a long moment, Angela just watched her. The look was fond, if not a little put-upon. She found that she liked it, never having seen it before.

“I love it, you know. There’s nothing I could ever imagine myself doing or wanting to do. But that doesn’t make it easier,” she said. Those gentle blue eyes regarded her, “I know you can relate, Fareeha.”

It was a shift, the banter giving way to something a little more somber. So she nodded slowly. “The burdens of loving your job, I suppose.”

“The burdens of doing what we do,” Angela corrected. Staring down at her steaming coffee mug, morning light casting a soft glow around her—she looked even more like an angel than in her Valkyrie Suit.

Although their friendship was new, stitched together through battles and bruises, and _real_ stitches, Fareeha would have had to be blind and stupid to miss just how beautiful Angela was. She’d always known it, even as far back as the few times she’d seen her hanging around her mother when Overwatch had existed in more than just name. But that hadn’t been the _only_ reason she’d begun speaking to her. As focused as Angela was on the battlefield or in the medical tent, she had a sharp sense of humor, and a concern for others that went far beyond her profession.

She also ran herself ragged at every opportunity. As it happened, they had a lot in common.

“I’m noticing the irony in this before I say it, but why don’t you take a break?” Fareeha offered. It earned her a smirk, but the eye contact told her that Angela was still humoring her suggestion. “Just a day or two. I know Zürich is only a quick fight away. You haven’t been back in a long time, have you?”

Whatever mirth had lay behind her eyes turned quickly into a kind of reserved pensiveness. Fareeha had seen that look in the medbay before, and not necessarily in the midst of a bad situation.

She was mulling it over, but her eyes remained intense, searching Fareeha’s own. It felt as if she were being scrutinized, but only by proxy. Angela, it seemed, was thinking far beyond her. For a moment, Fareeha wondered if the suggestion had been out of line. She’d never been one to break ranks in her career or her personal life, but in recent times she’d felt comfortable enough around Angela to speak her mind.

“No. I haven’t been since my father’s funeral,” she said, and before Fareeha could make to offer an apology, “I still own property there… I suppose a visit is overdue, isn’t it?”

Fareeha nodded in agreement. “It might be nice to be at home for the holidays.”

“Are you going back to Cairo then?” she asked, interest seemingly piqued.

“If my mother was there I might consider, but she’s been flitting around more than usual,” she said, “I’m not sure where she is at the moment.”

“And your father?”

“Toronto, if I’m not mistaken. But he works during the holidays. I usually see him for his birthday in the spring.”

Angela nodded slowly, thoughtfully into her cup of coffee. Fareeha watched as her eyes unfocused for a short moment, and as she set her cup down. She eyed Fareeha then with a curiosity she’d only ever seen trained on vials and reports in the lab. Then, the good doctor had the decency to ask her a question that might have made her choke if she hadn’t finished her coffee first.

“Would you like to come with me to Zürich?”

There was a long moment of silence, and Fareeha could have kicked herself for not responding sooner, what with the way Angela was looking at her, blue eyes bright and hopeful.

She smiled, a full, toothy grin that couldn’t properly express the excitement that had suddenly and completely overwhelmed her chest. “I’d love to.”

 

* * *

 

“I have something for you.”

Fareeha jolted. She hadn’t realized that she’d been dozing, but when she opened her eyes, she was in the exact same position she’d been for the past three hours—curled up on one side of the love seat. She took in the room again, and noticed that Angela had risen from her spot beside her and was stoking the crackling embers of the fireplace. She turned, and Fareeha couldn’t help but crack a grin at her sweater. She’d never seen so many poofballs in her life, let alone on _one_ article of clothing, but the sweater Angela had found amidst her old family belongings had really made her day.

After her amusement, Fareeha panicked. “Wait, what?”

Angela smiled. She gestured at the TV above the fireplace. It had been turned to the news, and the Omnic newscaster was wishing viewers a merry Christmas. Fareeha noticed the time: four minutes past midnight, Christmas Day.

“It’s Christmas,” Angela explained, “I know you don’t really celebrate it, but I have a gift for you anyway. Think of it as a thank you for coming with me.”

“Oh, Angela, you didn’t have to—“

“I wanted to.” With that, she disappeared into the adjoining room.

 _Shit,_ Fareeha thought. How had she not gotten Angela anything? Angela, who had saved her from the brink of death more times than she could count on both hands. Angela, who had been a friend and confidant and a bright spot in even her worst days. Angela, who had invited her into her family home for the holidays with a warm, ugly sweater of her own and enough Swiss hot chocolate to put her to sleep—and she had nothing in return.

For the minute it took Angela to retrieve her gift, Fareeha sank into the cushions of the couch, hating herself.

“I could hear you beating yourself up from the other room.”

Fareeha met Angela’s eyes as she sat back down on her side of the love seat with the gift—a small red box with a gold bow. “You heard correctly,” Fareeha sighed, “I’m so sorry, Angela, I don’t know how I didn’t—“

“Stop.” Her tone was gentle but firm, and she smiled once Fareeha had stopped blabbering. “This is the first Christmas I’ve spent at home since my parents passed,” she said, her eyes soft. “This means more to me than you know, Fareeha.”

For what seemed like an eternity, Fareeha just stared, dumbfounded. The sincerity wasn’t out of the ordinary for Angela, but the force of it, and all directed at her was overwhelming. She blinked a few times, then glanced down at the box Angela had extended toward her.

“Thank you,” was all she could say, hoping that it sounded as sincere as she felt.

There was no wrapping, and Fareeha pulled the cover off gingerly, setting it aside. Inside the box was a medal, a medal stamped with a symbol she’d revered her entire life.

“Angela…” she breathed, “This is…”

“My Overwatch service medal,” she said, “I don’t have much use for it anymore.”

“But this is… Angela I can’t accept this. This is yours—you’re the one who put in the time, the service… It’s not mine to have.”

“It’s mine to give away,” Angela urged. When Fareeha looked up from the medal, she felt frozen, paralyzed by Angela’s eyes. “Overwatch was never to me what it was to you. I joined because I thought I could do a lot of good, but the time I put in made me realize that my help is of better use elsewhere.” As Fareeha stared in awe, she felt Angela’s hands cover her own over the box. “I want you to have it, Fareeha. If not for what it is, then just as a gift from me.”

She knew then that nothing she could say would change Angela’s mind, not when her eyes burned with that intense determination. So instead of continuing to protest, she just set the medal aside and gathered Angela up in her arms. The way the other woman sank into the embrace made Fareeha feel as if she’d been worried about how she might feel about the gift. But it wasn’t just the physical gift that made Fareeha’s chest tight with emotion. It was the meaning behind it, the meaning she had seen in Angela’s eyes, as well.

“Thank you, Angela,” she murmured against her temple.

In response, Angela shifted closer with a hum of contentment. They stayed like that for a long while, wrapped up in an embrace that warmed Fareeha more thoroughly than the fire crackling away in front of them.

It was only later, as Fareeha blinked the sun out of her eyes, that she realized that they’d fallen asleep on the love seat, Angela curled up on top of her, her breathing even.

Fareeha smiled, pressed a gentle kiss to the crown of her head. On the coffee table, the medal glinted in the early morning light.

“Merry Christmas, Angela.”

**Author's Note:**

> I hope I did these two justice! You can find me on tumblr [here](https://bazaarwords.tumblr.com/) if you're interested. 
> 
> This may currently be my only Pharmercy fic, but I hope to change that in the future!


End file.
